


As Long As There Was Coffee

by shannedo



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Blow Jobs, Die Nationalmannschaft, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, German National Team, Hand Jobs, M/M, Misunderstandings, minor Gotzeus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas develops a crush on his new co-worker, Manuel and flirts the only way Thomas can: by embarrassing himself a countless number of times.</p>
<p>Neuller Primary/Elementary/Pre/Whatever School Teachers AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As There Was Coffee

"Whoever made me this, I love you," Thomas proclaimed to the staff room early one Monday morning. He took the steaming hot cup of coffee from the counter and sipped. A little too sweet for his liking but he couldn't complain.

“Thomas-” Marco Reus said, looking between the mug and his co-worker with a look of exhaustion on his face.

“-You did, Marco? I love you. You're a godsend,” Thomas said, giving the other man a cheeky grin as he took his usual seat on the lumpy sofa next to Bastian.

Marco rolled his eyes and meandered back to the staff room's kitchenette to make another coffee. “I made it for Mario,” he grumbled, staring mournfully at the fresh cup.

Thomas heard him and felt guilty for the slightest of seconds but then he began guzzling down the much needed coffee and all second thoughts he was having disappeared. Feeling slightly better, he looked to Bastian. His friend was busy flicking through pages of paper covered in his illegible handwriting. Thomas still swore he was trained to be a doctor, not a teacher. “What you got there?” He asked, leaning over into Bastian's space.

Snorting, Bastian swatted at his friend. “Lesson plans,” he explained. “I figured our classes could do a project together, if you like.”

“Sounds good, like what?”

Bastian seemed to have a hard time summoning a good explanation. “I figured it could have a World Cup theme," he began. "The kids would have to work in teams, practice their research, group work, numeracy, literacy skills, the like - in a big trivia quiz... type... thing."

“Huh?”

“I'd need more time to explain, Tommy," the older man said, shuffling his notes back together into a hasty pile. He pushed himself to his feet. "But right now I have to show the new guy around.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows. “New guy?” he asked. It was news to him.

Lukas, who had been sitting on the other side of Bastian, looked up from his morning newspaper. “Yeah. He's a young guy, cool, teaching Year Three. Remember how Mrs Rogers had to leave with health issues? He's replacing her.”

Bastian handed Thomas the notes he had on his project idea, giving his friends a farewell nod before walking off. “Read over that whilst I'm gone, I'll take the new guy by before class starts.”

Thomas read over Bastian’s idea as he slowly woke up. It had a few holes but much like all of Bastian's ideas, it was fantastic - if slightly mad. He had no doubt the headmaster, Mr Loew would approve it. But then again, he’d given up on disagreeing with the so called dream team a long time ago. Philipp still teased them about that nickname.

The door creaked open a few minutes from the first bell and Bastian came in with a very tall, very pretty gentleman. He looked nervous and uncomfortable in a nice sweater and shirt. Poor guy, he’d soon learn that nice clothes weren't appropriate for teaching little children. All Thomas could really notice was the fact that he was gorgeous and that he looked adorable, shuffling his feet, tugging at his shirt cuffs. “Everybody, this is Mr Neuer,” Bastian announced, giving the new man a pat on the back.

“I’m really glad Mrs Rogers had that heart attack,” Thomas thought.

He hadn't realised he’d said it out loud until Lukas spluttered on his coffee.

He turned bright red as everyone turned to stare at him. Bastian was giggling, Philipp didn't even look surprised, just tired. And Mr Neuer turned bright red, looking at everyone bar Thomas.

“Ah. I…. uh….”

“Mr Neuer-” Marco said.

“-Manuel is just fine,” he said. Even his voice was hot.

“Manuel,” Marco amended. “Sorry for Thomas. He’s, uh, very forward.”

Bastian proceeded to introduce Mr Manuel Neuer to the rest of the staff room and Mario when he finally appeared. Marco handed Mario another cup of coffee he'd made and the smaller man looked overjoyed, grinning shyly. Thomas heard the words "Just how I like it!" and he repressed a groan. Oblivious idiots.

The time finally came for Bastian to formally introduce him to Mr Neuer and he pushed himself up off the sofa, surprised to find that even standing up, Thomas still stood a few inches shorter than his new colleague. The man looked just as mortified as Thomas felt but nevertheless, he put on his best smile, one that had his every feature working. His eyes were beautiful, a blue the colour of the waves on a stormy day, with their grey depths and rivulets of bright colour. They darted around nervously as he stopped in front of Thomas, holding out a large, strong hand for him to shake. "Manuel Neuer, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Thomas shook the hand. "I'm Thomas Muller, the pleasure is all mine." Basti raised his eyebrows. Thomas inwardly cursed. "I... uh, I only meant - y'know, earlier - I only meant I was glad someone... capable was here to fill Mrs Rogers' shoes. Not that y'know, your feet would fit in her shoes. Uh." His brain was screaming at him to shut the fuck up and Basti was biting his lip, waiting for disaster. Mr Neuer, curiously enough, had a small grin on his face. "Uhm. What I'm asking is.... do you want to sue me?" Bastian snorted so forcefully Thomas thought he might hack up a lung and Mr Neuer's teeth were clamped down on his bottom lip. He realised he was still holding Mr Neuer's hand.

He let it drop, running the hand through his already dishevelled hair. "Sorry, Mr Neuer."

"I said to call me Manuel," he said. Holy crap, he was totally suing. Thomas needed a muzzle. Or duct tape. Or a brain to mouth filter. "And, uh, no. I'm not going to sue you."

Anything Thomas had to say to that died in his throat as Bastian hurried the poor man on, giving Thomas a look as he went by. Bastian finished the staff room tour with making sure Manuel knew where the coffee, tea, sugar, milk and chocolate biscuits were. Also known as a teacher's survival kit.

"Y'know what they say about men with big feet," Lukas said beside him, barely containing his laughter.

"Shut the fuck up, Poldi."

\--

It wasn't until that afternoon that Thomas realised Manuel's classroom was right next to his. He should have, considering that was Mrs Rogers' old classroom but he'd been far too embarrassed to have lunch in the staff room. Bastian ended up taking him another cup of coffee and Thomas would be eternally grateful. The older man insisted Manuel hadn't even mentioned Thomas again and didn't seem half as mortified as Thomas did, so it really was nothing. But Bastian was Thomas' friend. He had to say stuff like that.

Just as class had started back up for the afternoon, there came a knock at the door. The children all looked up from their brightly coloured reading books, excitedly looking to see who was at the door. Thomas was having them read aloud from their books to their partners, helping anyone who needed it but he never failed to be amazed at what a pair of six year olds could do when they put their minds to it. He liked getting them to use that work ethic.

Manuel stood in the doorway, looking as nervous as ever and slightly embarrassed. The children yipped excitedly. "Who is that, Mr Muller?"

"Everyone, this is Mr Neuer. He's teaching Year Three. Say hello to Mr Neuer," Thomas said in his normal, animated tone, carefully navigating his way through the children sitting on the carpet to get to the doorway.

"Hello, Mr Neuer," they chorused in the way they'd been taught in school assemblies, half of them with no idea what Manuel's name was.

"Hello, everyone," Manuel chirped back, smiling wide at the children. It was adorable. "Can I have a word with you, Mr Muller?" With a word to the children to continue reading and to behave sensibly - especially Louis - Thomas stepped outside the classroom with Manuel.

"How can I help you, Manuel?"

"It's embarrassing seeing as Bastian told me this morning," Manuel groaned.

"Oh, you're the embarrassed one here?" Thomas asked, incredulous.

Manuel allowed himself a small smile. "It's okay, Thomas. Really," he assured him, causing Thomas to raise his eyebrows. "I was just wondering if you could show me where the supplies cupboard is. I completely forgot."

That was it? That's what Manuel was embarrassed about? "Of course," Thomas said brightly. "Do you want to, uh, follow me?"

"That was the plan, yes," Manuel said, grinning.

"Right," Thomas  said. 'I'm an arsehole,' Thomas thought.

He led Manuel down the brightly lit corridor, the walls plastered with the artwork of all the kids in the school. They passed Bastian's classroom to see that, as always, his wild bunch of seven year olds were talking loudly, milling around and working in an odd harmony. Basti called it chaotic good and it certainly worked.

Thomas would have to get back to Basti on the project idea. It would be great and would mean putting the kids into groups of four - two Year Ones, two Year Twos - to make a poster about a country that would participate in the World Cup. Their climate, wildlife, food and team. Then, they'd present to each other and top it all off with a team quiz. Bastian was a fantastic teacher.

Thomas stopped at the end of the corridor and opened the supplies cupboard door. It was dark inside and he looked around for the light switch, groaning when he realised a massive stack of empty cardboard boxes sat bellow it. Probably Poldi's fault. He stretched over the boxes to flick the light switch, realising a moment too late that the shirt he'd been too lazy to re-tuck was riding up over his hips. When it was on, he stepped aside to let Manuel in, graciously pretending he hadn't noticed the other man staring. "Uh, so," he said. "Card and artsy stuff is over there," he pointed vaguely. "Good ol' A4 paper is here," he gave the stack of paper a thump. "And if I can help you with anything else, feel free to ask."

Manuel nodded politely. "Thank you very much, Thomas," he said, courteously standing aside to let Thomas return to his class. His cheeks were pink and he was careful to avoid Thomas' eyes.

"Anytime, Manuel."

\--

It was hardly three days later when Thomas made an arse of himself yet again. It was becoming a habit; a ridiculous, embarrassing habit. He wasn't even this accident prone, it was purely Manuel's fault. Every time that man appeared with his sculpted body and pretty face and hypnotic eyes, Thomas ran into a fridge. Or worse.

Today, it was worse. Today, Basti's class had joined his and they'd all been put into groups. He'd left the classroom to go get the worksheets for the kids they were to use to find their information and he'd walked right into Manuel. And he meant _right into._ He didn't even have the time to be embarrassed because next thing he knew, there was scalding hot coffee down the front of his jumper and he let out the most unmanly yelp.

"Oh my-" Manuel stopped himself. "I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm so, so sorry."

Biting back a whimper, Thomas urgently grabbed the hem of his jumper and pulled it upwards. He meant to pull it off but it got stuck around his neck and a cool breeze hit his chest.

Manuel cleared his throat awkwardly and Thomas couldn't even see him through a layer of navy wool and his fucking shirt but he knew the man had gone bright red. For a moment, he thought about how adorable Manuel looked when he blushed but holy shit this was so not the time for that. "Uh, Thomas."

"My shirt is stuck to my jumper," Thomas stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Manuel said shortly. There was a short tug and his chest felt appropriately covered now. Then, Manuel helped him pull off the sticky jumper, giving a shy grin when he saw the bright colour Thomas had turned. "You can't be flashing the kids."

"I shouldn't be flashing the teachers, either," Thomas remarked, barely able to meet Manuel's eyes.

The embarrassed look on the other man's face started to subside and a twinkle returned to his eyes. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't be drinking so much coffee anyway. Sorry about your jumper," Thomas shrugged. He didn't really care about the jumper at this point. "If it's any consolation, you look good." With a cheeky grin that was infuriating and adorable all at once, Manuel ducked back into his classroom.

Thomas wanted to die right now. He wouldn't mind if he got struck by lightning. He felt as if he had, his entire body burning, especially his cheeks.

When he returned to his classroom with his worksheets, Bastian didn't even ask about the coffee stain on his shirt or the colour of his face. He just snorted and continued to help his kids, assured he'd hear all about it later.

Manuel Neuer would be the death of Thomas. He was sure of it.

\--

Aside from that incident, the rest of the day went well. The kids made good progress on their projects with only two bursting into tears when they didn't get to do Germany as their poster, despite both Bastian and Thomas patiently explaining that if a group got to do Germany, it wouldn't be fair on everyone else. A few other kids had difficulty finishing the worksheets, despite their only task being fill in the blanks with the word bank at the bottom of the sheet. He was practically handing these kids the answers on a silver platter.

By the end of the day, some kids were even getting started on their posters. Bastian gathered up supplies, including felt pens, pencils, pipe cleaners and, of course, glitter. Because no six year old's project was complete without copious - frankly ridiculous - amounts of glitter.

With five minutes to the bell, the kids stored their unfinished work and helped pack up. Thomas took them outside at bell time and made sure they'd all been collected by their parents, returning to his classroom to help Bastian with clean up.

"I think they'll need another afternoon to finish the posters," Bastian said as he swiped some glitter back into the appropriate tub.

"Yep and then another for presentation, another for the team quiz," Thomas supplied as he returned pens to their trays. "Friday afternoon?"

"Nah, Poldi needs the craft supplies for his class tomorrow afternoon."

"So, finish the posters in the morning, presentation in the afternoon and then quiz them after that?"

Bastian shook his head again. "We can get the posters finished tomorrow morning but we'll need the sports hall for the quiz, so they're spaced out and not cheating. And in the afternoon, they'll be preparing the hall for that dumb meet-the-parents mixer we all have to go to. No use, mate."

"Fuck, I'd forgotten about that," Thomas groaned. "Besides, Jogi would go bat-shit if he found out we were neglecting other subjects. Fine, they can do their presentations on Monday morning, quiz in the afternoon?"

"Sounds like a plan. I was thinking, we should get Manuel's class involved. That year's split between him and Philipp anyway, so one Year Three to each group. Y'know, to help them and keep them on task and stuff," Bastian reasoned, putting all the glitter tubs back in their tray.

Stifling another groan, Thomas nodded. "Okay," he said.

Bastian sensed his hesitancy. "Oh Christ, Thomas. What happened?" he asked, already halfway to a stroke.

"Nothing!" Thomas said defensively, giving Basti a glare. "He spilled coffee down my front, I made an arse of myself. Nothing unusual."

"Oh, alright then," Bastian said, picking up the tray of glitter and holding it out. "Then you won't mind returning this to his classroom."

If looks could kill, Thomas would like to imagine he'd have killed Basti a million ways at once. He snatched the tray and stomped out of the classroom with his head held high, ignoring Basti's mocking sniggers. "Remember to ask him about the project," Bastian called after him.

When Thomas reached the classroom door, he spied Manuel sat behind his desk, going through booklets with shaky handwriting scrawled over them. It looked like creative writing, judging by the accompanying illustrations and Manuel didn't notice him at first. He politely rapped his glitter free knuckles on the door.

Manuel looked up and positively beamed at him, biting his lip when he saw the coffee staining Thomas' shirt. Even the way he chewed on his lip was distracting. Thomas imagined those teeth grazing over his ear lobe, his neck. Those full lips all over him, wrapped around him.

"That will come out, right?" Manuel asked, sharply pulling Thomas from his daydream. Thomas looked down at the coffee on his shirt in an attempt to hide his seemingly permanently red face.

"Yeah," he said easily. "There's nothing a good stain remover won't take out." Why did everything that came out of his mouth in Manuel's presence sound like a double entendre?

Manuel gave a chuckle and nodded, standing up and walking around his desk to take the tray of glitter. He towered over Thomas, all height and muscles and tan skin and mouth watering good looks and Thomas knew he must be staring but fuck, staring was hardly the worst thing he'd done to this man in the past few days. Manuel could get a restraining order if he so desired, Thomas swore. Then, he remembered what Bastian had told him and he forced himself to meet Manuel's eyes without just getting lost in their depths. "I," he stuttered. "I was wondering if..."

He trailed off, thinking of all he could say. Manuel listened attentively, watching Thomas with those big, honest eyes. It was so distracting. There was a moment's lag in the conversation, causing Manuel to prompt, "Wondering if?"

Right. Thomas was speaking. Thomas was working. Thomas wasn't asking this man if he wanted to get some dinner or bend Thomas over his desk and fuck him. Focus, Muller. Not a good mental image when you're trying to be professional. "Do you want to... be a part of our World Cup project? I say mine, it was all Bastian's idea. The guy's a mastermind." A beat passed and then Manuel smiled, blustering out a breath he clearly hadn't realised he'd been holding. Thomas couldn't help but notice a flicker of something sad in his bright eyes.

"That sounds great, Thomas," he said, smiling his bright smile. "What do I need to do?"

Thomas spent the next ten minutes explaining the whole operation to Manuel, messing up his words a fair few times as he was continuously distracted by the attentive expression and gorgeous eyes and Poldi's comment about feet. And he found himself making Manuel laugh too. With actual jokes. Not just him making a fool of himself. Maybe this guy genuinely liked him. Perhaps not the way Thomas wanted him to like him but maybe Manuel didn't think he was a total perverted fool.

"This sounds absolutely fantastic," Manuel said when Thomas had explained. "I mean, loads of little kids love football and even if they don't, there's plenty to keep them occupied - the food, animals, culture. There's something for everyone. Besides, it will build on so many skills and it's a great opportunity for my kids to work on their leadership skills."

"Is that a yes?" Thomas asked hopefully.

"Yes."

\--

The next day proved to be packed to bursting point with action. There were fifty five kids in Thomas' class instead of his usual twenty one, plus Basti, plus Manuel. He was kept so busy, half the time he didn't even notice the object of his wet dreams going around, catering to his kids' needs like a fucking superhero.

He didn't even need to spend half the day keeping mini Poldi from putting glue in people's hair, although that might have something to do with Uncle Basti bribing Louis with ice cream.

Halfway through the morning, Thomas decided the adults were in need of a caffeine boost, so he went to take orders. When he went to Manuel, Louis stopped him and said, "I'll have a vanilla chai latte, Mr Muller."

Dumbfounded for a moment, Thomas crouched down to talk to the little pain in the ass. Cute pain in the ass, admittedly, with his mother's white blonde hair and blue eyes. "How do you even know what that is, Louis?" he asked, a little too stressed to bother using his soft teacher words. Besides, he'd watched Bayern with the kid, his dad and Basti. Louis had heard him say worse.

"It's what daddy always orders. I don't like coffee but daddy says it tastes nice."

Barely biting back laughter, Thomas ruffled Louis' blonde hair. He would totally be asking Lukas about that the next time they spoke. "I'm afraid we can't make fancy coffee like that here, Louis. Only instant."

Louis made a face and shook his head. "No, I don't want that."

Thomas nodded before looking up to see Manuel grinning at him. He gave Louis' hair one last ruffle before he stood up and resumed his task. "Hey," he said with ease. "I was gonna go to the staff room, get us coffee."

Manuel nodded, smiling adorably. "I'll come with you. I'd dread to think what would happen if you tried to juggle three coffee cups back here." He chuckled.

Thomas gave the man's arm a shove, struggling not to think about the firm bicep. "Mean," he said as Manuel chuckled. It was a lovely, homely sound. He looked around for Basti and saw him helping one kid write with big, neat handwriting, unaware of another kid sprinkling glitter so maniacally she was getting it all over the back of Basti's shirt. "Should we tell him?" Thomas asked, considering it for a moment.

Still laughing, Manuel said, "No, I think Mr Podolski deserves to see this first." Thomas snorted and took the three mugs from Basti's desk.

"Hey, Basti," he called across the classroom. Bastian was the only one of them who got called informal names in the classroom. The kids normally used Mr Schweini or something like that, as Schweinsteiger was not an easy name for a little kid who could barely say 'Neuer' to pronounce. Basti looked up, a little of the glitter on his back cascading down as he shifted. Manuel repressed a snort. "Coffee?"

Bastian nodded and smiled, unaware of why Thomas and Manuel were barely holding back their laughter. Still biting back giggles, Thomas felt Manuel's large, warm hand on the small of his back, guiding him in the direction of the door and something warm stirred in his chest. He was a goner. Manuel touched his back and Thomas was a goner.

They giggled about it until they reached the empty staff room, the only sign of life being the nursery children running around outside the window, playing games with Marco and Mario.

"So, are you a big football fan, Manuel?" Thomas asked conversationally as he flicked the switch on the kettle. Manuel put a spoon of instant coffee and a sweetener into his cup, repeating the same into another mug and adding a sweetener and then looking to Thomas for guidance on the last mug.

"Oh, I take two sweeteners and milk," Thomas said.

"No, I know yours," Manuel specified. "I don't know Basti's, though."

Thomas felt blush creeping up his neck. "Oh. Right. Uh, one sweetener, no milk. Thank you."

Manuel smiled and did just that. "To answer your question, yes. I'm a Bayern fan."

Thomas nodded approvingly. "Same here," he said. "You'll have to come watch their matches with Basti, Poldi, Louis and I."

He got that beautiful warm smile in answer. "There was a time when I wanted to play professionally, you know," he said, leaning back against the counter. "As a goalie. My youth club called me the sweeper-keeper."

"You must have been amazing," Thomas said, considering Manuel's height, reach, strength. "I was the same. A target man, not a goalie but I was good, I had the potential. I just didn't go all the way." Thinking about it made him feel slightly uneasy, so he looked to shift the conversation. "Why didn't you go pro?"

"Same reason as you," Manuel said, smiling. It made Thomas' stomach lurch. Was this guy a psychic? A special agent? "I wanted to teach." Okay, maybe not. "That and... uh... I've seen it before. Friends, family, people who have had their entire lives taken over by the game. Y'know, they have no privacy, no secrets, it's all out in the open - the good; the bad; the ugly. All of it. I couldn't do it."

"Too private?" Thomas asked.

"No, not that. I could do that, I could handle it," Manuel admitted, looking like the same nervous, shuffling little boy he had been nearly a week ago now. "I'm just... too different."

Thomas nodded, understanding completely as he filled the three mugs with hot water. "Oddly enough, I'm the same," he said. "It was crushing when I realised that being who I am meant I'd never play in the Bundesliga, on the world stage. Everybody would know everything about you and I know that I wouldn't be able to do it. I wouldn't be able to be the first openly gay player on the world stage. No way. I couldn't take the abuse. I'd crumble."

Manuel was so silent as he spoke, Thomas could swear he could hear his own heart beat. He looked up to check that he hadn't been horribly wrong and Manuel was absolutely furious that Thomas had interpreted him as gay. But the truth was somehow worse. Manuel was just watching him, his eyes slightly watery, biting his lip. When he met Thomas' eyes, he gave a solitary nod.

Then he reached around Thomas in the small kitchenette to fetch the milk, laying a warm hand on the shorter man's hip so as not to jostle him. And that warm touch spoke a million words, bled a painful story from Manuel to Thomas and they both knew. They both knew the other's experiences of a world and a profession that just wasn't fair to them and they'd both found a greater passion and arguably the most noble passion of them all: helping others, teaching children.

Manuel topped off his and Thomas' coffee with milk before returning the carton to the fridge and swiping at his eyes. He took his and Basti's coffee and followed Thomas out of the staffroom, not another word being spoken.

\--

For the rest of the morning, Thomas was incredibly aware of Manuel's every move, his position in relation to Thomas, the sidelong glances he'd throw him and fingers being brushed over his back and shoulders and elbows as he passed.

Every fleeting touch, every tender brush of Manuel's fingers blazed trails of fire over Thomas' skin. More often than not, he'd look up to see Manuel looking right back. He'd offer a shy smile, get an adorably innocent, glowing look in return and completely forget whatever he had been doing.

Louis had hit him in the leg when he'd worked out Thomas wasn't really listening.

Lunch time was fast approaching and they had the kids collect all their supplies and return them. It was a pain getting fifty kids ready for lunch but soon the bell rung and off they went, leaving Basti, Manuel and Thomas in the wake of their damage.

The mainly finished work was stored safely in a cupboard and they put everything back in its correct trays and jars. "Cheers, Tommy, Manuel. See you in the staff room," Basti gave Thomas a tired nod before taking his classroom's tray of pipe cleaners and leaving the room.

Alone with Manuel again, Thomas' skin prickled with heat. He stacked card and threw pens into trays and within minutes, the two had cleared pretty much everything up. Now, to return it all the supplies cupboard. Arms stacked with crafts, they went off down the corridor, dodging and weaving feral children as they went. The end of the corridor that housed the supplies cupboard was silent and Thomas cracked open the door, leaning over the cardboard boxes to flick the light switch. In doing so, some of the card slipped out of his arms and he was forced to get down on his knees to pick it all up.

Manuel wandered around him, putting all the supplies back in silence. Uncomfortable silence. Thomas  finally leaned up, still on his knees and held out the card so that Manuel could return it. It was only when the taller man turned around to take the card that Thomas realised his trousers were beginning to tent. Fitted, ass-hugging, delicious slate grey trousers. "Fuck, Manuel," Thomas murmured. He got to his feet, backing towards the door.

Manuel was alarmed, his face going white. "I'm sorry, Thomas!" he said. "I shouldn't assume. I'm so-"

He abruptly stopped when Thomas shut the door and turned the key in the lock. He swallowed hard and Thomas was finding it difficult to breathe, in such close quarters, wearing way too much clothes, wanting nothing more than to get his mouth around Manuel's interested cock.

Manuel's jaw was slack, the corners of his mouth twitching. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated and Thomas could feel his own cock twitch. This man was beautiful. How he'd been able to resist him for this long was a fucking mystery but all he knew now was that he'd just locked himself in a cupboard at work with Manuel Neuer, an hour long break underway and the alibi of a messy classroom at hand. Thomas would be fucked if he resisted for a second longer.

In the end, it was Manuel who pulled Thomas flush against him. Thomas could feel the outline of Manuel's cock on his thigh as large hands pried at the buttons of his shirt. "Fucking Christ, Thomas. Help me."

Thomas did just that, nimble fingers undoing Manuel's buttons. He tugged off Manuel's shirt with more force than required, ridding himself of his own shirt in the process and both garments were tossed somewhere he really didn't fucking care about right now. He fell on Manuel, pressing hot, wet kisses to his neck, down the chest he'd only dreamed of. He licked and nipped at his nipples, venturing further down. He ran the tip of his tongue over the defined lines of Manuel's abdomen, nuzzling at the dark trail of hair. His fingers grappled with the button and fly of Manuel's trousers, shoving them down around his thighs. He pried down ass-hugging boxer briefs that he would just have to appreciate at a later date and kneeled before Manuel's half hard cock, mouthing at the soft skin of the inside of his thighs, nipping gently with his teeth. "Fuck, Thomas," Manuel cursed, fingers tangling into Thomas' hair, caressing, trying so hard to be gentle. It only made the heat pooling in Thomas' belly to increase.

Finally deciding to stop teasing, Thomas turned his attentions to the cock that now stood proud against Manuel's stomach. He grinned before leaning in and licking a long strip along the thick vein on the underside, savouring the whimper Manuel let out. Then, he took the head in his mouth, gently licking at the slit before applying more pressure, moving faster. Manuel's hips bucked, prompting Thomas to grab him and hold him steady. He didn't want to choke, didn't want to ruin it for Manuel and judging by his size, it was a real possibility. He sunk down as far as his mouth would let him, learning his limit and pulled off to spit in his hand, slicking up the remainder of Manuel's shaft.

Thomas took down Manuel as far as he could and then began to move, humming around his cock, hearing a moan that sent shivers down his spine. He worked Manuel's cock with his mouth and hand, bobbing at a steady rhythm, hollowing his cheeks and driving the man crazy.

Manuel's fingers gripped his hair, pulling so hard Thomas' eyes were nearly watering. Wanton moans and curses spilled from his mouth in a way they just shouldn't from a school teacher and fuck, that only made it hotter. Thomas bobbed and sucked, savouring every whine, every expletive, listening to Manuel moan his name like a prayer. It was so hot and he was close to reaching down to undo his own trousers when suddenly, Manuel was tugging at his hair.

"Thomas, I'm going to come," Manuel pulled insistently at his head. "Thomas!"

But Thomas stayed put, hollowing his cheeks one last time and letting Manuel spill into his mouth. He gulped it down greedily, the odd taste made bitter by all of Manuel's coffee but he really didn't care, swallowing every drop.

"Fucking hell, Thomas Muller," Manuel breathed as Thomas let his cock go with a pop. He looked down at the younger man with his rosy cheeks and his hair sticking up all over the place and let his head loll back against the wall with a dull thwack. "You'll be the end of me."

Thomas got to his feet, kissing the soft, exposed skin of Manuel's neck and grinning, proud of himself. He wasn't even thinking about his own aching cock until Manuel was backing him up into a shelf covered in sequins and stickers and unbuttoning his trousers. "Oh my god," he breathed as Manuel wrapped a hand around his cock,  slowly working up a rhythm. Manuel pumped his cock, giving a slight twist of his wrist on the way down and soon long, loud moans were spilling from Thomas' puffy lips.

Manuel buried his face in Thomas' neck, lips and teeth latching onto skin and sucking. The hot pressure on Thomas' cock was so good; after listening to Manuel moan and whimper he was achingly hard. He worked his cock faster, harder and a climax was building in Thomas' stomach like the tightening of a coil. "Fucking so good. Don't stop. So good, Manu."

"Manu?" Manuel asked, pausing on the hickey he was working up for a second. "I like it," he admitted, causing Thomas to chuckle. Then, he sharply turned his wrist and Thomas let out a yelp. "That's it, gorgeous. That's it. Fuck my hand. Do you want to come for me, Thomas? You're so hot like this. So hot."

Thomas couldn't even form a single syllable as he began thrusting into the rapid jerk of Manuel's hand. The intense pleasure and intense heat was all he knew and suddenly he was over the edge, crashing through wave after wave of pleasure. "Manu, Manu," he chanted, fingers digging into the man's broad shoulders.

There was a moment where neither of them could move, both frozen in the perfection and hazy afterglow. Manuel pressed his forehead to Thomas' collarbone, breathing for a moment before kissing the soft flesh there and pulling back. He managed a lazy smile, rocking dangerously on the balls of his feet for a moment before gaining a little composure.

Thomas laughed, the sound low and throaty and foreign to him and he looked down at Manuel's come splattered hand, a few drips on the floor. Thank fuck his trousers were fine, though. He grabbed a sheet of crepe paper off of the shelf behind him and handed it over with a giggle, crouching down to mop up the mess on the floor.

They got dressed lazily, stopping every now and then to drag fingers and lips across collarbones and necks and shoulder blades. Then, when they were both dressed, Manuel pressed a kiss to Thomas' sweaty hairline and unlocked the cupboard door.

\--

"So..."

"You guys are late."

Bastian and Lukas looked smug as Thomas and Manuel wandered into the staff room with their dinner.

"Rather red in the face."

"And messy."

"Thomas, are your lips alright?"

"Manuel, why are you panting?"

Thomas slumped down onto the sofa beside Marco, who just rolled his eyes and went to sit with Mario, making room for Manuel. "I don't know what you're talking about," Thomas said, giving a sated grin to Schweinsteiger and Podolski.

"Thomas, you have a hickey on your neck the size of a tennis ball," Philipp stated without even lifting his eyes from his newspaper.

"Right."

The only good thing to come of it was that his face couldn't have possibly gone redder.

\--

Thomas met Basti in the reception of the school that same night, both dressed in sensible shirts and ties to get this dumb Meet and Greet with the Parents thing over with. Thomas would find out who came up with this. He loved his kids but not enough to willingly endure an evening of painfully probing questions that he couldn't even drink his way through.

There was a drinks table to his left but it was set up numerous glasses of red wine and a sign that stated everyone would receive _a_ complementary glass of wine. One. Eins. "For God's sake," Thomas muttered. He hated red wine. Who even likes wine? Prissy, middle class, suburbia dwelling, nosy, probing, rude parents, that's who.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?" Basti asked, staring mournfully at the wine.

Thomas briskly nodded and checked over his shoulder for any parents. They were alone, save for the secretary, who was already glaring at them disdainfully. He picked up a glass of wine, pinched his nose and upended the contents into his mouth, Bastian mirroring him. Alcohol was alcohol.

Putting down the empty glasses, Bastian and Thomas made their way down the corridor and into the already crowded sports hall. The walls were clad with displays of the children's work, booths set up with curriculum outlines and learning outcomes and various other paper mountains. Philipp met them at the door, looking equally fed up and handed over badges with a nod that could only be described as tired.

"Cheers," Thomas muttered, taking the one that read 'Mr Thomas Mueller - Year One' and pinning it onto his sweater with a little more force than strictly necessary. He stabbed himself in the process. It would be a long night.

As expected, parents immediately started coming up to him to chatter about their child's wellbeing and conduct awfully disguised background checks on him and Thomas was soon separated from Basti. After a few minutes, the booze began to soften the edges of the ordeal but it wasn't nearly enough.

It was uncomfortably personal, the way people kept asking him what he did in his spare time. Were they trying to catch him out? What did they expect him to say? 'I play football,' or 'I'm forced to come to these shitty things,' or 'I watch child pornography.' More than once he was tempted to answer with 'I suck the mega hot Year Three teacher off in the supplies cupboard.' That would give them a shock.

Thinking of Manuel, Thomas realised he was yet to spot him. One mother was in the middle of telling a long and uninteresting story about her spell as a nursery group helper and her husband seemed as equally disinterested as Thomas, his eyes having glazed over long ago. Rather unsubtly, Thomas looked over the top of her head to scan the room - not that she noticed, she was much too enthralled in her recount of the time some kid split his head open on a toy truck and needed ten stitches.

It took Thomas a few minutes to find Manuel but when he did he could barely repress a small smile. Manuel looked as handsome as ever, in fitted black trousers and a burgundy v-neck sweater and white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was busy talking to Jogi and another man Thomas didn't recognise. Slightly shorter than himself, with dark cropped hair and large brown eyes.

A mother approached Manuel and the stranger and struck up a conversation and Jogi took it as his cue to disappear. For a few moments, the mother just chattered and Thomas noticed slightly uncomfortable looks creeping onto both men's faces.

A second later, Thomas' stomach dropped like a stone. Manuel slipped his arm around the shoulders of the stranger, giving the mother a polite smile. The stranger looked relieved and practically sunk into Manuel's body, looking very much at home.

Thomas' mouth was dry as sandpaper, his jaw slack. There was an ache in his chest and his stomach squirmed sickeningly. He could taste red wine and bitter bile climbing his throat and everything between his ears was cold and numb.

The mother who had been recounting her story to him gave him a firm tap on the shoulder. "Mr Mueller, are you alright there?"

Thomas looked from Manuel and the stranger back to the mother, his jaw working to manufacture a suitable excuse but none came to him. Then, a warm hand closed over his arm and a familiar voice started talking. "You'll have to excuse Mr Mueller, ma'am. He's not been feeling the greatest today but he was adamant on coming tonight," it was Mario.

It only took a second of exposure to Mario's adorable face and kindly smile for the parents to nod and give Thomas sympathetic looks. That was all the cover Mario needed to take Thomas from the hall. Stood up against a wall lined with coat hooks, Thomas pressed his head to the cool panelling, trying to breathe. "Mario, what the hell? Your class-"

"Marco can take care of it, don't worry," Mario insisted. "Are you alright, Thomas? You were like a deer in the headlights in there."

Thomas often wondered how someone half a foot shorter than himself could contain so much literal sunshine. Mario was such a happy, kind person, observing and empathetic. And yet not even Mario Goetze could ease what he was feeling right now.

"Jesus Christ, Mario," he mumbled. "He has a boyfriend. He's in a relationship and I fucking blew him." Thomas knew that that wasn't really why he felt upset. He wasn't guilty, - not that guilty - no, he was... he didn't know what he was. "He has a boyfriend and he never once told me to stop."

Understanding dawned on Mario and his worry immediately collapsed into anguish. "Oh my god, Thomas. I'm so sorry," he said and pulled Thomas into a hug. Damn it, he was too nice. "I knew how much you liked him." Thomas clung onto Mario with all his might, knowing full well he was probably crushing the smaller man. But Mario didn't complain. "Do you want me to get Basti?" he asked when he was released from the bone-crushing hug. "Or Lukas?"

Shaking his head, Thomas didn't want to think about what either of them would do to Manuel if they found out. "No," he said, his voice trembling. "I just want to go home."

Mario nodded, producing a set of keys from his trousers. "C'mon then, Thomas. I'll take you home. Marco can cope for a half hour and I'll explain to Jogi when I get back," he said.

"But my car-"

"Someone can drive you to the school tomorrow to pick it up, when you feel better," Mario assured him.

Fifteen minutes later, Thomas was sitting in Mario's car outside his apartment building. He looked over to the smaller man, giving a sad smile. "You have to be the kindest person alive," he remarked, the wide smile Mario gave him melting the edges of the ice block in his chest.

"Marco says that," he replied, smiling at the very thought of the blond man.

"Marco is in love with you," Thomas pointed out. "Take a chance on love, Mario. Because it works so well for the rest of us."

"You're in love with Neuer?"

"I don't fucking know," Thomas said wearily. Mario nodded. "Thank you, though."

"Anything for a friend."

\--

On Saturday, Thomas only left his bed to fetch his TV controller from the ground and to bring a massive multipack of crisps and a two litre bottle of Pepsi to his bed. He watched the first season of a show Lukas had been raving about on Netflix but it wasn't that funny. Not that he'd find a lot funny right about now.

On Sunday, Bastian called him to ask him how he was feeling. Mario had told everyone the wine hadn't agreed with his stomach and he'd had to drive him home. Thomas needed to buy a bouquet of flowers for Mario Goetze. He told Bastian he was feeling a lot better but he'd need the rest of the day in bed to be back tomorrow. Bastian was understanding and no one else bothered him for the rest of the day.

On Monday, Thomas pulled himself out of the crumby, sweaty mess of bed sheets to go take a shower. The water was scalding hot but it felt grounding and cleansing. He made sure he looked fantastic, hair ruffled and styled in the way he knew was cute, clothing matching and clean. He pocketed his car keys and walked to work, seeing as his car was still there. He even picked up a box of breakfast pastries for the entire staffroom.

He was adamant that he'd act like nothing was wrong because nothing was wrong. Manuel hadn't outright lied to him. They'd never spoken about boyfriends. Thomas had just assumed. They hadn't been clear with each other; Thomas thought he could have a loving, healthy relationship with this man and all Manuel had wanted was a dirty fuck. If Manuel pursued him again, he would politely decline out of respect for Manuel's boyfriend. If he was lucky, they'd both act like nothing had ever happened.

The staff room greeted him with cheers and gratuitous thanks when they spotted the box Thomas toted. He set it down on the counter and fished out the pastry he'd bought for himself, grinning when he saw Marco holding out a mug of coffee for him, Mario's clutched close to his chest. Thomas took his usual seat beside Bastian on the lumpy sofa, giving him and Lukas broad smiles.

"Someone's feeling better," Lukas remarked cheerily, taking a pastry from the box that was now being passed around.

"I really am," Thomas said. "It's alright, I think it was the wine - but I haven't been sick in forty-eight hours. It's all clear, Jogi," His boss nodded over his mug of coffee, although that might have just been his exhaustion.

Bastian gave him a broad smile, scoffing down his pastry before clarifying the day's game plan. "So, you, me, Manuel. Your room for presentation, sports hall for team quiz," he recited.

Thomas nodded his confirmation, trying not to look uncomfortable at the mention of Neuer. "Sounds like a plan, Basti," he said before wolfing down the rest of his breakfast and drinking his coffee.

Mario was the next to appear, giving Thomas a kind smile before stopping at the pastry box. All of a sudden, Marco's arms wrapped around his waist, chin on his shoulder and whispering something in his ear. Mario beamed and leaned his head back to kiss his fellow nursery teacher, so sweet and adorable it was sickly.

"This is new!" Lukas exclaimed.

"At last," Thomas added, grinning at them both.

Bastian started the applause and soon everyone was applauding the two young teachers for finally getting their act together. Philipp was grinning from ear to ear and even Jogi cracked a smile.

Manuel arrived just then, looking surprised. "Well, thank you for the applause, everyone," he said, chuckling as Lukas snorted.

"Not you," Mario corrected, barely concealing what was a scathing remark. Mario and Marco stood against the kitchenette counters and Mario raised their joined hands.

"Reus has made an honest man of our little Mario," Philipp said, earning laughter and head shakes from the happy couple. And Thomas felt an all too familiar ache in his chest as he looked between Mario and Manuel, wondering why it couldn't have worked out.

Thomas told himself there was no point dreaming. Manuel had a boyfriend, could even be married for all he knew and all he ever wanted was some relief. He didn't give a shit about Thomas.

But when those large doe eyes turned on Thomas, he couldn't help but feel - or wish - that it was more.

Manuel gently plucked Thomas' empty coffee mug and walked to the kitchenette to make him another cup. He cast a look at Thomas over his shoulder, one that was clearly beckoning, so Thomas bit his lip and got to his feet.

The rumble of the boiling kettle was all he heard for a moment, his heart in his mouth, his breathing growing panicked. Manuel seemed to pick up on it, giving him a concerned look. "You're feeling better, right? I missed you at the Meet and Greet thing and... realised I don't actually have your phone number." He looked nervous, admitting that last bit and Thomas noted the flush of pink in his cheeks.

"Yeah, I. Uh. The wine didn't agree with me, so I went home early," he explained flatly. It sounded rehearsed. "Sorry," he added quickly.

"As long as you're okay," Manuel said, filling his and Thomas' mug with hot water. Then, he laid a hand on Thomas' hip to reach around him and fetch the milk from the fridge. As he stepped back, he gave Thomas' hip a squeeze and didn't remove his hand.

Thomas' throat was dry and, teeth clamped down on his tongue, he firmly tugged Manuel's hand from his waist. "Don't," he spit out, unable to meet the other man's eyes.

"Thomas?" Manuel asked, sounding hurt. "I - Have I done something wrong?"

"Depends on your definition," Thomas replied, every word feeling like acid in his throat. "But it's not fair on me, my guilty conscience. It's not fair on your boyfriend."

"My _what?"_

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Thomas asked, the hurt in his voice real. "You should have told me all you wanted was a fuck. It's so pathetic - I'd have taken anything."

"Thomas, I am so confused," Manuel said. "First of all, no, that's wrong. Second of all, what have I not told you?" His voice was raising and Mario and Marco were staring at them worriedly.

"Your boyfriend! Jesus, Manuel, the man you were with on Friday."

"Mesut?" he sounded horrified. "Mesut isn't my boyfriend."

"You looked pretty cosy."

"Oh my - Jesus, Thomas. Your deduction skills are beyond me," he remarked. "Mesut is a friend from Uni. I took him along to meet Jogi, he's applying for a job here. Jogi will tell you!" he said and the man in question looked up from his drink, forever disgruntled by that nickname.

By this point, they'd drawn the attention of the entire staff room. Thomas' friends watched him with clear worry, concerned that he might have been hurt by their new colleague. Jogi looked to Thomas. "Son, Mr Oezil is applying to teach Year Four. After the summer, the class will be too big for Lukas, so we're splitting it," he said, as calm and sure as ever.

Thomas felt confusion wind up like steel wool in his chest. He mumbled for a second, looking back to Manuel, his brow crumpled. "Then why was your arm around him?" he asked.

Manuel looked almost relieved by the question. "That mother that was talking to us, she was single and could only be described as predatory. And Mesut is about as straight as I am, not to mention not the most talkative. He looked uncomfortable, I acted in the heat of the moment and pretended he was my boyfriend," he explained, his hand gripping Thomas' forearm. "It worked, too. God, Thomas, if I'd known you were looking I'd never have done it. I'm so sorry. I'd never betray you, Thomas. Please tell me you know that."

Thomas' heart was in his mouth and a small bubble of hysterical laughter caught in his throat. He'd moped an entire weekend over _that?_ Yes, of course he trusted Manuel. The man looked so upset and earnest that Thomas knew he was telling the truth. His teeth were pulling at his lip and in that moment Thomas realised he'd never kissed Manuel. Not once. Sure, they'd kissed each other in all sorts of places but they'd never kissed.

"You dumbass," he mumbled before taking Manuel's face in his hands and pulling his mouth down to meet his.

Manuel was in shock for a moment but then he melted into Thomas, kissing him deeper, strong hands encircling his waist. He was so close and so overwhelming and Thomas thought he was dreaming. Thought he hadn't actually gotten out of bed that morning.

Applause broke out all around them, Marco and Lukas wolf whistling and everyone was happy for a moment. Then.

"Yeah, alright, lads," Philipp said loudly when Thomas and Manuel failed to break apart after a suitable amount of time.

"I'd like to hang onto the breakfast pastry, thanks, Thomas," Lukas proclaimed.

Thomas broke away from Manuel's lips long enough to say, "Shut the fuck up," and then he was back on Manuel, who now smiled into their kiss. Laughter rung out around them and they finally broke apart, Thomas pressing his head into Manuel's shoulder, Manuel curling his fingers into Thomas' hair.

"Alright, my blood sugar is through the roof," Jogi said and Thomas heard the scrape of his chair on the ground. "I'm off."

The other teachers slowly trickled out of the staff room in order to get to their class on time, Philipp smiling to himself, Basti pausing to give Thomas a big thumbs up.

Then, just as Mario and Marco were about to leave, Thomas felt lips on his cheek. He looked up to see Mario standing on his tiptoes, hand still entwined with Marco's, having just kissed Thomas on the cheek. "Thank you," he said.

"Thank you," Thomas replied, smiling warmly as the smaller man left the staff room with his Marco. Manuel gave him a curious look and Thomas sated him with an, "I'll explain later."

Manuel pressed a slow, sweet kiss to his lips and drew back, his forehead resting against Thomas'. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, Thomas?" he asked, smiling.

Thomas giggled, feeling Manuel's warm, solid weight against him. He felt safe, warm and, most importantly, loved. "Yes, I'd like that."

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun, oh my god. Thank you so much for reading! All kudos and comments are much appreciated.  
> It's late and I'm tired, so I'll check for spelling errors/grammar issues tomorrow. Completely unbeta-d, I accept full responsibility for how anti-grammar my brain is at midnight.  
> And I would definitely consider a Goetzeus sequel.....  
> Thanks for reading <3  
> My [tumblr](http://www.scisaaclahey.co.vu)


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